Like Father, Like
by TheLetterQ
Summary: Laura takes in an afternoon at a Damien Hirst art exhibit.


**Disclaimer: **I don't read Wolverine: Origins, or New X-Men, so this should be very interesting.  
I don't own them. Any of them. Neither do you.

**Like Father, Like . . .**  
An X-Men fic by Q

Laura Kinney placed her palms on the cool glass surface of the large formaldehyde-filled vat, gazing silently into the large, round, brown eye of a calf. She knew that if she looked just past the animal, she would see it again, inverted, cross-sectioned, organs arranged neatly in the shell of half it's own body. This was what passed as art now: A cut up cow and it's cut up calf, call it "Mother and Child Divided" and you're an instant success.

"I know," she said to the calf quietly. "I know how you must feel."

"Quite a nice one, huh?" a voice from beside her said. Laura looked to her new companion, a young man stood next to her, wearing nothing but over-sized, over-pocketed cargo pants, and a black muscle shirt. She could see the swirls of a pretentious tattoo inked into an arm and shoulder, his ratty mohawk was tied back. "I like this one over here," he pointed to four similar but smaller vats, within each was a single bull skull.

Laura glanced at the sculpture and gave a dismissive nod.

"You know," the man continued. "Hirst was going to make a sculpture of a bull carcass having it's way with a dead cow, with hydraulics and things, but it was banned and never made. People were worried they'd get sick 'cause of the smell."

Laura moved from this display over to the next, a crucified animal cadaver.

"It was going to be called Two Fucking, Two Watching."

"How controversial." Laura deadpanned. She managed to stifle a sneer as the man once again sidled up to her side. He was making her feel uncomfortable, and only now did Laura realize that the exhibit room was empty, save for the two of them, and obscenely arranged carcasses.  
"I'm Daken," he introduced himself.

She just stared at him, before turning towards the room's exit.

It was then, that Daken grabbed her by her fishnet covered wrist. Laura froze, hands clenched into fists, head glaring over her should at the man. She could feel the ends of her adamantium claws poke temptingly at the surface of her skin, wanting to break through the flesh and lash out at the man. But no, she was not a mindless killer, she was in control, she was better than that.

"Let me go," the girl warned in a low voice, fists just clenching tighter.

Daken grinned wolfishly. "I don't think I'll be doing that."

"I'm warning you," Laura informed him.

A shadow fell over them both, and they looked to see a solidly built security guard towering over them both. "Is there a problem here?"

"Not at all, sir," Daken assured him, eyes adverting back to Laura. "Right, sweets?"

The young woman growled.

"Well, the museum is close--...!"

A familiar sound of claws unsheathing, and of slashed skin, the sounds, sight and smell of arterial spray; with a gurgle of the guard as he fell to the floor in a hapless pile, Daken's bony claws dripping with rivulets of blood, face spattered in flecks of red.

Laura let out a guttural, inhuman growl, no longer keeping her claws at bay. With her free hand, she lashed at at Daken, who bent back at the middle, tossing Laura over and behind him. She hit a pedestal showcasing a diamond encrusted skull, and rose to her feet, glaring at her opponent. He had claws like her, like Logan.

"Who are you?" The young woman demanded.

"He said stay away from 'dad', but didn't say anything about you."

"Dad? Wolverine's your-...?" she didn't have time to finish her sentence, dodging another attack from the man. She danced past him, pivoting to meet his back, slashing down ward from each shoulder blade to his middle. then slammed the hard rubber of her combat boot against his spine.  
Daken stumbled forward before walking up the wall and flipping back to face her.

"Right. And that makes us family, sister dear," he taunted.

"What do you want with me?" Laura asked, her metal claws clashing against Daken's claws of bone.

"I can think of a few things," answered Daken, smirking at her past the tangle of claws.

Laura snarled, twisting her wrist to the side, effectively severing Daken's claws into separate pieces. She back peddled out of range while he cringed in pain. Laura regarded with little interest that the bones were already reforming.

"What were you expecting, Daken?" it was Laura's turn to taunt now. "That I would curl up like a good girl and just be beaten? You said you weren't allowed to go after him, were you expecting me to go after him for you?" she punctured the question with a kick to his lower jaw, foot claw protruding from the steel toes of her boot. It sliced through his cheek and down to the jawbone, flecks of flesh and blood arching from the claw.  
"Expecting to make your own little pack of killers?"

Laura moved to stab Daken when she fell off balance, and Daken was no longer where he once was. "Wha-?"

She caught herself, heel digging into the polished hardwood floor, ears listening, muscles taught and ready. He was still here, she could smell him and hear the movement of his muscles rippling and working under his flesh, but she could not _see _him.

A searing pain took hold of Laura's arm, before the limb fell to the floor in a growing pool of blood. Starring at it dumbly for a few seconds, Laura sneered, deftly scooping up her arm and pressing the severed ends together. She spun to come face to face with her enemy.

Quite unexpectedly, she threw her body weight into him, knocking him back and against one of the displays. The surface of the vat shattered, and Daken found his back pressed against shards of glass and damp cow organs. The three, Daken, Laura and cow, toppled over, the cow cushioning their landing, Laura flipping and landing a few feet away, awash in formaldehyde and standing on the now slick ground.

Daken rose to his feet, draped in preserved entrails, of which he cut himself free. He smiled that wolfish smile again, before lunging after her.

Laura jumped back, digging her toe claws into the wall. Her severed arm was weaving itself back together, but it was still hanging halfway unattached, numb and useless. She climbed up the wall, Daken following frantically. The girl managed to reach the celling, and dug her toes in, standing upside down, parrying Daken's claws with the claws of her one good hand. Both were down to one handed battle, Daken's other claws securing him to the wall.

"If you're not going to work with me," Daken reasoned. "Then you can give 'our father' a message for me."

Laura had other plans, while they were dueling claw to claw, she managed to keep her 'brother' busy while her wounded arm healed. Biding her time, she waited for just the right moment, then thrust her free claws into the ceiling, pulling her foot claws from the plaster, then once again kicked out at him. Her toe claw, dusty from mortar and whitewall, sunk into the soft flesh under Daken's chin, pierced his tongue and worked it's way into a sinus. Laura swung back, dislodging her foot from his face, dangling loosely, claws buried into the ceiling.

She watched dark crimson blood fall from the vertical wound in his throat and out his nose, running down his shirt and dripping to the floor below. Laura avoided his dead gaze, busying her mind with a way to get down.

Laura turned away from Daken completely, her back facing him. It was then that something nearly twice her weight slammed into Laura's back, freeing her from the ceiling.

"Now," Daken's voice filled her ear with a violent snarl. "as I was saying," with unbelievable speed, he spun Laura mid air to face him. The two crashed to the floor with enough force to leave a crater of splintered hardwood.

"Since I can't have him, I'll have you." With that firm statement, Daken pierced his sister's stomach with his three claws, he twisted them in deep, before ripping them out crudely. Laura inhaled, back arching in pain, and Daken plunged his claws into her again, this time he stabbed through the floorboards, before once again wrenching out his claws. Again and again the murderous young man ran the girl through, bright red blood mixing with his darker hued blood, and reeking, cloudy formaldehyde.

Laura was beginning to lose feeling; Daken was damaging her faster than she could heal herself. But Laura was never the type to just curl up and die, she had been through far too much for that. Grinding her teeth, she shot a fist forward, skewering her attacker's eyes. Daken screamed in agony, clawing at his face while Laura threw him off of her. Feebly she got to her feet, an arm cradling her exposed middle and spilling organs, and ran. She knew she didn't have long, and could not fight him in this condition. Hurriedly, Laura searched for a place to hide, so she could heal. If she could just heal, then she could stand a chance against the two-bit namesake.

The museum had been closed for some time now, and the halls were dark. This was not a problem for the girl, finding a sanctuary however, was.

After a bit of searching, Laura tried an elevator. Frustrated that the elevator seemed to be shut down for the night, she pried the doors open. Peering down the shaft, she could see an elevator car two floors down. Laura chanced a jump, landing with a metallic-sounding thud onto the roof of the car. She pried open the service entrance and slipped into the elevator. Satisfied that she was safe for now, Laura curled up into a corner and waited.

Laura was jolted to attention as a heavy thud rang out above her and the car shook. She had not realized that she had passed out. Laura looked down to her midsection to see bloody, torn cloths exposing her bare midriff. It was still pockmarked with bright red scars, but those would fade within the hour.

She had been found. She had to think.

Daken had the high ground, and Laura wanted it. No sense in making her brother wait.

Laura clambered to the roof of the car, popping up out of the service trap door and kicking Daken in the stomach. He stumbled. The girl delivered a slashing roundhouse kick to his face, foot claw extended. Laura finished it up with a leveling leg-sweep, which caused Daken to hit the support cables of the car.

Driven by adrenaline and feral anger, Laura gripped one of Daken's arms, breaking it over a bent knee. He howled in both pain and excitement while Laura smashed the other arm, pushing them back both at once to dislocate them from their shoulder joints. Another howl.

Sickened by the sadistic man and poor excuse for their shared gene pool, Laura continued her assault, weaving his strong but broken limbs through the thick, taught cables holding the car aloft. Just as she noticed a wound beginning to heal, Laura broke the arm again, this time indulging in a few compound fractures. She couldn't hide her own dark smile when she saw the splinters of bloody bone piercing through Daken's open flesh.

Finally satisfide with her work, Laura's green-brown eyes focused on Daken's. Her gaze was cold and emotionless. Stern.

"You said you met Wolverine. I assume he tried to 'reach' you. Reason with you."

Daken's dislocated shoulder shifted and Laura moved automatically, skewering it. "I'm not going to bother with that." she informed him.

"You said your 'he' forbade you from confront Wolverine," Laura continued, slowly circling the bound young killer. "He must be your master."

_Snikt!_

For a mere millisecond, Dakon felt a pain at the base of his skull, then numbness, nothing.

"I know you can still hear me," Laura breathed into his ear. He jerked as she severed his spine from his tail-bone, her other claws firmly needling between the vertebrae under the back of his skull. "and I know Wolverine already tried to talk some sense into you. I had a master once. Now, I have freedom. All I can say is..."

In one deft move, Laura slashed open the flesh of his back, digging her fingers in and around the spinal column.

"Grow a spine."

She pulled, tendons and muscles ripping from fluid and bone, Daken falling forward limp and without sensation, only the car cables holding him somewhat upright. The fact that he almost looked like a puppet was comical to Laura. Carelessly tossing the spine down the elevator shaft, the girl's final action was to sever the cables. The car she stood on plummeted, and the weight from the other car sling shotted Daken up the shaft, and out of sight.

Laura's claws caught harmlessly on the shaft wall, and with little effort she scaled the the shaft up to the still open elevator doors. She heard the crash of the elevator cars and the sick broken-gear noise of Daken's body working it's way through the pullies. The sounds left little impression on her.

Laura wrapped her arms around her middle as she walked down the D.C. streets. People ignored her and she ignored them, mind still playing out the night's events. The blood caked on her body was hard to notice in the dark, thankfully.

Discreetly, Laura searched a pocket for change as she saw a private phone booth. Slipping in and shutting the folding door behind her, she dropped coins into the hungry slot and dialed a number. It was answered on the fifth ring.

"Yeah?" came a gruff and annoyed sounding voice.

"Wolverine, it's Laura...I met someone."

(Thurs, Jan 17th 2008)

**End Notes:** Like I said, I don't read either comic, so they might seem OOC. But if no-one was going to write it, I stepped up to the plate. Also, I called Laura Wolverine's 'daughter' rather than 'sister' because they seem more father-daughter to me. I hope fans approve.


End file.
